I Will
by Little Miss Jigsaw
Summary: Something keeps me from leaving him behind. My honest streak I guess. Or maybe it's that he's hers... All that is left of her... Short, sad little oneshot... please read and review... Virtual rum if you do!


Okay... I am not entirely sure what this is... I wrote it in like... an hour and a half... It was... kinda difficult to write, since I used no names what-so-ever... If you have questions about who is who, then ask and I shall tell... But I think it's pretty obvious...

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The child is shivering, soaked to the bone, and scared to death.

I'm not entirely sure why.

I found him, hiding amongst the rocks. He hadn't moved, even when the tide had come in, an idiotic decision that nearly cost the runt his life. I came to this beach to visit an old friend, not to save this brat from his own stupidity. I inquire as to what had caused his lapse of judgment, and he informs me, through chattering teeth, that his mother sent him to hide, and told him not to come out, no matter what. I decide I'll return the boy home, and possibly box his mother's ears, for telling him such things... but then it occurs to me where I am. I take another look at the boy. He looks oddly familiar.

I ask him his name, and he tells me. Praying to a God I don't even believe in that this is just a coincidence, I ask him who his mother is. When he says her name, and her title, I feel sick. She wouldn't have sent her son to hide in such a place unless it were serious. So, I ask why he was told to hide. Still shaking from the cold, he tells me that the royal Navy came, the night before, whilst most the city was empty, and took the residents by surprise... Killed most, and took the rest aboard ships...

Feeling more dread than I ever have before, I tell him to lead me to his home. He does, and I feel sick to my stomach at the sight before me. I barely hear the boy crying, as he runs through the burned remains of his home, calling for his mother. I already know we'll not find her, but I still look. I have to look. Almost everything in the remains of the house is ash... I spot one thing that remained whole. A black chest, in the corner. I know what it is. I notice it's unlocked, and partially open.

Against my better judgment, I open it all the way, while the child still calls pointlessly for his mother. The thing holding the chest open is a scorched piece of wood. The contents of the chest has been reduced to a charred piece of nothing, that crumbles into ash when I touch it... Feeling sicker then before, I call to the boy, and together, we search the burned remains of the once grand city... Bodies litter the streets and alleyways. Thankfully, none are hers. But there are some there I recognize. Men and women I knew well, and on occasion called friends... I don't even look at the face of the body whose hand is on the thick leather-bound book, whose title has been erased by flames. I know who it is. So does the boy. And apparently he knew the man, for I feel him press his face against my coat, and feel tears soaking through the fabric...

Hours of going through the city, and we find one survivor, if the woman could be called that... She has a sword protruding from her back, and is covered in burns... and I think she's been shot at least once. She is clutching the scorched remains of a baby to her chest, backing away from me, weakly, as she croaks at me to please show her mercy. She thinks I am a soldier come to finish her off. Maybe I am, or maybe I'm showing her mercy... I see the way she is struggling to breathe, and how blood dribbles down her chin with every gasped breath, and know she isn't going to live, and I draw my pistol... She looks at me with what seems like relief, as I pull the trigger, and grant her a quicker death than drowning in her own blood.

Numb with disbelief that this could have happened, I return to my ship, the runt of a boy I'd rescued in tow. Something keeps me from leaving him behind. My honest streak, I guess. Or maybe it's that he's_ hers_. The last thing left of her..

But then I realize, there is still a chance. I didn't find her in the city, and the boy had informed me that he'd seen some people being led on to navy ships... That means they are being taken to the place where I'd first me her, to face the gallows. There is still a chance to save her. After all, my ship is still the fastest around.

I shout orders to my crew, and lead the kid to my cabin, where I tell him to stay put, and out of the way. It won't take but a day or so to get to our destination.

On the way, I remember her... It wasn't but a week after her husband had left, that I returned, after retrieving my ship. She was is in bad shape, after a run-in with a few heavily armed merchant ships,and badly needed repairs, so I decided to pay _her_ a visit. I cheered her up with grand tales of how I'd regained my ship, and the battle with the merchants... After a week, my ship had been repaired. Yet, I found myself looking for something wrong, that needed fixing, and went back to her. For a month I found little things wrong with my ship. After the first few times I had even stopped lying to myself, and admitted they were excuses.

But the last time I saw her... If anyone had told me it was possible to be sickly green and white as a sheet all at the same time, before I saw her that day, I'd have said they'd had a bit more rum than was healthy... even for pirates. But she managed it. I opened the door to her home that morning, and she was the sickly green and white as a sheet all at once. She practically threw me out. We exchanged words through her door... or shouts, as it were. I don't even remember what was said. But I had come back, months later, and again, tried to see her, but she wouldn't let me in. And so it was like that, for years. I would come back every so often, and always got the same greeting. A firm, and shouted go away. The last time I had tried had been two or three years ago. I had come back this time, in the hopes that her husband's visit would have either left her in a better mood, or in a gloomy enough one that she might want company.

Ten years, I've been trying to get her to open up about what had caused her to turn me away, and now I may never know. Now I may never even see her again.

Over the voyage I learn that the boy doesn't know his father, or even who he is. I find this odd. When I ask him if he knows who the item in the black chest had belonged to, he tells me no. But he mentions that a few weeks prior to the city burning, he'd been sent to spend the day with his mother's friends, and hadn't been allowed home until sunset.

He never asks my name, nor how I know his mother, and I never offer the information. We're both too lost in our own thoughts, and fears to really care, anyway.

When we reach our destination, I tell him to stay in my cabin, until I return, and I give my crew orders to set sail at dawn, if I haven't returned. They reluctantly agree. I make my way to the shore, and try to keep out of sight. But, it doesn't seem as if there are very many people out and about today. And I know why. There's a hanging to be seen.

I head for the area where I know the hanging will take place. I've been there once or twice myself. It is up here, at the fort that I must be careful, for it is full of people. There is a pile of bodies, near by. Some are familiar faces, but thankfully none are her. But surely they know who she is, and as such will keep her for last... Or have I come too late? Maybe she'd been hung the day before... Then I hear it. The jeering, and name calling, as someone announces that they have the queen of scum, the leader of thieves. My hands ball into fists. How dare they insult her like that!

They lead her through the crowd, hands and feet bound in chains, yet she holds her head high, and in spite of the situation, manages to look like royalty. Her hair is darker than I remember it; no longer bleached by the sun, and there are streaks of silver in it, yet her honey-colored eyes have remained the same. Simultaneously fierce, wild, dangerous, and sweet, kind, and loving. Those eyes, that have haunted me since I met her, lock with mine, and I can see she's been expecting me. She also knows why I am here, and she gives me a small shake of her head, to tell me no. I'm considering saying to hell with what she wants, but I realize she is right to say no. I would only find myself in the noose next to her.

As the executioner slips the rope around her neck, she mouths two words to me; I'm sorry. The executioner heads for the lever that will end her life, and I want to look away... But I hold my ground, and keep my gaze locked with hers. She's looking at me with a mixture of sorrow, regret... and... love? Just before the executioner grabs the lever, she mouths something else. Three little words, that I won't be forgetting soon. So I mouth back something I never thought I'd say... I tell her I love her. She nods, just as the lever is yanked back, and the floor drops from beneath her. I turn away. I can't watch. I almost sigh in relief when I hear a snap that tells me her neck has broken, instead of her suffering through a drawn out death of suffocation...

I decide that now is a good time to leave, before I am spotted. But I don't return to my ship, just yet. I don't want her body burned. She belongs in the sea. She belongs where she was happiest. I stay until nightfall, when they are going to be burning the bodies of those hung, and I sneak back into the fort. Her body is easy to find, and easy to get out of the fort. As I'm carrying her to my longboat, it really hits me. She is dead. She is limp, and lifeless in my arms, and isn't going to be returning to life any time soon. I wonder, briefly if I could get her back, the same way she brought me back... Then I shake my head. She hadn't died at sea, and even if she had, she would be at peace. She would have no reason to be stuck in purgatory, like I had. I clutch her body tightly to my chest, eyes burning. I have lost friends before, and brushed it off as nothing. I have even considered myself before a dying friend, and almost chosen myself over said friend... Yet, they weren't her. They weren't this damned woman in my arms, who had managed to affect me more than I would have ever admitted before today.

I manage to make it to my ship without letting myself fall so low as to cry. I bring her body aboard, just as her son steps out of my cabin. He sees her, and for a moment thinks she is alive. When he realizes she is dead, he breaks down, though I can see him trying to hold it in. As I lay her body down on the deck I tell him not to. To just let it all out. And so he does.

When morning comes, I wrap her in canvas, and try and think of something to say, before I return her to the sea. I can think of nothing, however. Words, while usually one of my better weapons, have all abandoned me. So, with a murmured goodbye, I let her body fall into the water. I look at the crying child standing next to me, and remember the last words his mother had said to me... Through his sniffles, and little sobs, the boy finally asks me my name, and, through the tears of my own that are threatening to fall, I tell him. He looks at me in shock, for a moment, before reaching into his coat, and pulling something out.

He hands me the object- a small, tightly corked bottle, with a rolled up bit of parchment in it- and tells me his mother had instructed him to give it to me, should he find me, the night she'd sent him to hide. As he retreats to my cabin, shoulders slumped, head hung low, I stare at the bottle in my hands. I break the bottle against the railing of the ship, and look at the piece of parchment, and unroll it. It was rolled up after it was folded a few times. My name is written in neat, fancy lettering on the front... I unfold it, and realize that at least the first half of this letter had been written before the navy attack. Making sure no one is around, I start to read it.

_First off, I must apologize for my behavior the last time I saw you. I was scared and confused... about a great many things, that you will likely never know. Just know that I had my reasons, and will someday tell you the more important of those reasons. I said some things that day, that I didn't mean, but I had to make you leave. And for turning you away every time after that, I have no excuse save for my own fear, that you would discover my reason for chasing you off before I was ready for you to know._

_And about what you asked me, the last time you tried to see me: No. I won't be giving you the satisfaction of hearing me say those words, and nor will I write them here. I grant you this small victory: it was a good question, and you could very well have been right... But you'll just have to keep wondering, beyond that, because I won't ever say it._

­I smile slightly at that, remembering what she'd said, before...

_I had a visit from... well, I think you know who... Today. It was strange. Here I was, thinking that when he returned home, we would just pick up right where we left off. But it was nothing like that. We were barely able to even speak to one another. I was actually relieved when he left. I don't know if he'll be back, after another ten years. And as much as I feel guilty about it, I almost hope he doesn't. I think, that next time you come knocking, I will let you in... Or give you this. But, if you're reading this, we know which it turned out to be don't we?_

_So, if you're reading this... Don't give up on me. Please._

_your lovely-_

Her name has been washed away by what looks like a tear-stain. And now is where the other part of the letter begins. Where the first part is written neatly, and carefully, the second looks as though it was scribbled in a great hurry, and there are many spots where the ink has been blurred by tears.

_The navy is attacking... I don't know how they've found this place, but they're setting the city on fire, and I've only got a few minutes before they get to me. But I fear I may not get another chance to say what I need to. But I haven't got time for all of it, as it is... So I'll be quick. You want to know why I drove you away? Look at my boy. And look closely. You'll figure it out._

_Again, I am sorry. For all the wrongs I've done you, all of it. I know, if you find my boy soon enough, and he gives you this, I know you'll try some ill-fated rescue attempt... Please don't. You will only get yourself caught... Our time is coming to an end. Soon there will be none of us pirates left. I only hope that you evade the fate I will undoubtedly meet. Tell my boy about our little adventures? I've told him some, but not all. Keep him out of trouble..._

_And you were right. You were right. But, I still won't say what you wanted me to say._

And there it ends. I resist the urge to crumple the letter and throw it overboard. She'd written that I was right, but she still wouldn't wouldn't say what I'd wanted her to... As the boy comes back out of the cabin, I take a good look at him, and for a moment all I see is her... Her eyes, her face... but then I notice something else. I turn away, with a small smile on my face. The last time I saw her alive replays in my head, and I take her last words to heart.

Look after him.

I will, I promise silently, hoping the wind will carry my thoughts to her, wherever she is, I will.

I had kept him with me in the first place, because he was all that was left of her. Now I know he will be all that is left of me someday...

I'll look after him. Like I looked after her.

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